Scotch and sympathy
by princegeorge
Summary: Mrs Hughes forgot something, and returns to the Abbey to retrieve it. An unexpected nightcap ensues.
1. Chapter 1

Unexpected company

 **A/N**

 _A 'missing' part at the end of S6E6. I felt sorry for Thomas and here is the result. A shortie, hope you like it,_

o-o-o

They will never, ever trust me. They will always think I have something bad in mind. They can't wait to see the back of me.

Mr Barrow sat in the rocking chair in the servants room, feeling miserable and letting the tears run free. Nothing but good intentions he'd had, helping young Andy learning to read and even then he only met mistrust and suspicion. Well, it had to be, he mused. He knew he had never been very kind to his colleagues, given a few exceptions, and after her departure he had realised Sarah O'Brien had not been a good influence. But the cards had already been dealt by then and he had been marked the bad guy, so he just had to make the most of it.

His chance to act butler while Mr Carson was away on honeymoon might have turn out very well, except he had to spoil it by being nasty to everyone and worst of all; his decision to reveal Gwen as a fraud. Instead, the family and everyone downstairs had praised her and he had received a few stern words from His Lordship.

Why am I doing this? Why am I pushing them away while all I really want is to have friends? In a flash of thought, the answer came to him. I want friends, but I want respect most of all. I want them to respect me.

Lord Grantham's words came back to him. 'Carson is a kind man, that's why people are loyal to him,' he had told him. Was that all? Could it be as simple as that?

Mr Barrow didn't know. He was confused and upset.

o-o-o-o

Mrs Hughes had just left the House on her way to their cottage, when she remembered the jar _of 'Dr Phelps' Special Corn Cream for Ladies Feet' s_ he had purchased three days ago. She had left it in her sitting room downstairs, once again, and her feet were really bothering her these days, usually starting about ten minutes after she left the house. She sighed and decided to go back and fetch it from her sitting room. They'd had dinner at the House and her husband already knew she'd be late this evening.

In spite of her frugal nature, even she had had to admit she needed a pair of new shoes, not even just for the wedding, but she would never be able to wear them again with the little bumps on her feet as they were.

She went into her room, found the small jar in her desk drawer and slipped it into her pocket. Very well.

When she carefully closed the door to her room, she noticed strange noises from the servant's hall. Sniffing and …sobbing? At this time? Who would still be there? Or did they have rats downstairs again? She decided to go and find out.

In some strange way, she was not surprised when she discovered Mr Barrow. She had moved very carefully, so the young man in the rocking chair in front of the dying embers didn't notice her at first.

Oh, you poor lad, she thought, sensing what bothered him.

'Thomas,' she said gently. She just refused to call him Mr Barrow now, underbutler or not.

The young man jumped from his chair.

'Mrs Hughes! I was just…I was having a cigarette before turning in…' he tried but he already noticed the look of concern on her face.

'I am fine Mrs Hughes,' he said, but he knew she had read him.

'I am not quite sure you are, Thomas,' she said gently, giving him the warmest of smiles. He couldn't help it, he just gave in. he sank back in the chair and a few more tears ran down his face.

Mrs Hughes had pulled a chair near, sat down next to him and took his hands between hers. She said nothing.

Thomas took a deep breath. He knew Mrs Hughes was a kind woman, he had experienced that before and so he didn't feel too ashamed when another tear escaped his eyes.

'I did nothing wrong Mrs Hughes,' he whispered. 'At least, not this time. I know I have been a prat lots of times, but not this time.'

She stroked the back of his hand. ´Tell me,´ she said softly.

He hesitated,

´It's Andy. You know… A few weeks ago I found out he doesn't know how to read and write. He's so ashamed.. So I offered to help him, but it had to be a secret because he's terrified anyone else might find out, Mr Carson most of all, and he might lose his job. That's why he was visiting me in my room at night Mrs Hughes, and only that. I told Mr Carson there's been nothing going on that he doesn't approve of, but it's clear he doesn't believe me. That's all, Mrs Hughes.'

The housekeeper said nothing, but she squeezed his hand one more time, then got up.

'Wait here please, Thomas,' she said.

He did wait. What else could he do? She would probably go and inform Mr Carson about the illiterate footman.

But then again, would she do so in the middle of the night? No, not Mrs Hughes, he decided. Actually, he couldn't imagine her informing the butler about it at all. He knew she liked Andy, and he did his work well. She was not the kind of person to kick someone out because of being not able to read…. then again; there was the fact there were too many staff downstairs and Mr Carson had made it very clear he wanted Thomas to find another job. If Andy could be dismissed…but then, there would hardly be any footmen left, so…

His train of thoughts broke off when Mrs Hughes returned. She carried a small bottle of whisky and poured a finger's worth into two glasses.

'Thomas, I think you're being a true friend to Andy. I will not betray your secret and I am glad you confided in me. And I'm happy to see your kind side once again. Have a wee dram of whisky my lad, you deserve it and then you should be able to sleep. Slàinte.' She rose her glass to him.

'Slàinte mhath,' he smiled, 'and before you ask; that is all the Gaelic I know. Thank you Mrs Hughes, I now our secret is safe with you. And I will keep yours I return.'

'My secret? What would that be?' she asked, genuinely surprised.

He smiled again, eyes sparkling. 'That you keep a supply of Glenfiddich in your office. I'm sure Mr Carson doesn't know about that.'

She chuckled. 'Oh, you're right about that, he just can't appreciate it the proper way. So we both keep our secrets then.'

He grinned.

'We will Mrs Hughes. Thank you, I feel a lot better now, and not just because of the drink.'

They both rose to their feet and she accompanied him upstairs to the servant's quarters. Just before she turned to leave, he grabbed her hand.

'What is it, Thomas?' she asked softly.

He just smiled, then he bent over and kissed her cheek.

'Goodnight Mrs Hughes,' he said. 'And thank you for being here.'

'Goodnight lad,' she smiled back before closing the door.

He will be all right, she thought and went to the cottage, only to discover she had left the cream in her office again, when she emptied her pockets to find her desk key.

THE END

 **A/N** I love your comments! X george


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

A/ _N I first thought of this as a one-shot, but manygreentrees intervened and put some ideas in my head. Thank you! So here's chapter 2:_

o-o-o-o

She kept an eye on him. She had only once before found him as upset as she did that evening, that one night when he told her about his proclivities, not that she hadn't known about that long before. Since that day she'd looked out for him, and now she tried to talk to her husband.

'There's nothing we can do about it. We're overstaffed and really, who needs an underbutler these days,' he'd growled.

She knew he was right, on the other hand it seemed so wrong. But really, there was nothing they could do about it.

So she kept an eye on the young, dark underbutler.

That night wen he had opened up to her was weeks ago now, and if anything he had locked himself away even more since then. The playful banter about her hidden supply of whisky seemed to be forgotten, and she had fully expected him to tease her about it.

Instead, he seemed to have stopped teasing anyone at all. Seemed to have stopped talking to anyone at all, after the schoolteacher had advised him not to help Andy with his reading lessons anymore. He did his job, did it very well, even Mr Carson had nothing to complain about.

But she couldn't help worrying about him.

'Are you all right, Thomas?' she had asked him and the answer had been predictable; 'I am very well Mrs Hughes.'

'You know you can come to me if anything bothers you, you do don't you? Never mind Mr Carson.'

'Yes, I know, thank you Mrs Hughes,' he said, and she believed she had seen a very faint shadow of the spark that used to be in his eyes, when he smiled at her.

o-o-o-o

She had asked for a word with Miss Baxter, and found the lady's maid was worried about Thomas as well.

'I can see he is not happy, Mrs Hughes, just like you do. But he doesn't talk to me about it. He just tells me he's all right and I know he isn't. I don't know what to do, and I don't even know if I should do anything at all. Perhaps it's just the stress of having to find a new job, I don't know. Or the fact that he knows he is supposed to leave this place as soon as possible,' Miss Baxter had told her.

Mrs Hughes had chewed on that remark.

'I think you may be right,' she mused. 'Knowing your colleagues want you to leave must be hard. And yet it is not true, because I know you and me and Mrs Patmore and Daisy, and Andy don't want him to leave.'

'So it would seem he's mistaken about that, but there is the fact that as an under butler he became redundant and Mr Carson has not made that a secret, I'm sorry to say.'

Miss Baxter's cheeks coloured a bit, having criticized the butler in front of his wife, but the housekeeper smiled reassuringly.

'That's all right Miss Baxter, and just between you and me, that has annoyed me as well. Especially since Thomas actually applied for other jobs and couldn't find anything suitable. I spoke to Mr Carson about it but he is adamant about that point, if not downright stubborn.' She sighed.

'It seems all we can do is keep an eye on Thomas,' she said.

'I know I do, and I'm glad to know you do as well,' Miss Baxter had answered.

o-o-o-o

Ever since that first conversation, weeks ago, she had had several talks with the Lady's maid and both of them had reached out to Thomas more than once, but to no avail. After allowing himself to drop his stoic mask in front of the housekeeper, the young man apparently had decided to pull up his walls even more firmly. Even a repeated offer of Glenfiddich one evening didn't do the trick.

He had smiled kindly enough, and she had seen a small spark of the old Mr Barrow in his eyes when he politely refused her invitation.

'Thank you Mrs Hughes, but I think it would be unwise for me to form personal bonds with anyone, now that my days here are numbered,' he had said.

'Numbered? Have you found another job then?' she asked surprised.

'No, not that, not yet. But I will, very soon I suppose.'

She'd smiled at him.

'I will be sad to see you go Thomas, and I know for a fact Master George and Miss Marigold will miss you terribly.'

He had swallowed at that.

'Thank you Mrs Hughes, you have always been kind to me, even if I didn't deserve it.'

He quickly left after that statement, leaving her somewhat confused. What was that about? It almost sounded like a goodbye… was he planning to sneak out during the night, just like that wretched O'Brien had done? No, that wasn't Thomas, he would not leave like that. Still, his words kept nagging at her, and she felt the urge to follow him, to ask him about his plans, to… She couldn't put a finger on her feelings and didn't know what to do.

And so, because it was rather late, she was tired and her husband, who had complained earlier about her being late so many evenings was waiting for her at their cottage, she decided she'd sort it out tomorrow. But no matter how tired she was, she lay awake most of the night and not because of Mr Carson's snoring. She just couldn't shed the feeling of uneasiness…

o-o-o-o

Now it was tomorrow, and she almost pulled her hair out in grief and misery.

Young Andy had burst into her sitting room that afternoon and had all but dragged her upstairs to the bathroom, where she found Thomas lying in the bath, in a horrifying mix of water and blood and Miss Baxter tearing up her slip, using the straps to bandage his wrists. She had been able to put on her Housekeeper persona and began giving orders, as she was expected to do.

'Get him out of that tub….you take his legs and we'll take an arm each…have him out of those wet clothes… in bed.'

Dr Clarkson had arrived. He had stitched up the wounds, gave orders how to take care of the patient, and then kindly complimented Andy, Miss Baxter and herself with their quick and accurate actions, which probably saved Thomas's life.

That was the straw that broke her. She muttered an excuse and fled the room, practically ran the stairs, straight into her sitting room, where she locked the door and burst out in tears. Heavily sobbing at her desk, her head on her arms, she bitterly regretted her actions the previous night. That poor, poor boy, how terribly lonely he must have been, and she had FELT it for heaven's sake, she had KNOWN something was very wrong and she had done nothing. Because she was tired. Tired! And because her husband had been nagging about her being late so often. And while he had been a major cause of Thomas's problems, she had chosen to go home to him, instead of listening to her instincts. She should have…she should have….

It took a long time, almost half an hour, before she realised she was exhausted and had no more tears to spill.

A knock on the door finally pulled her out of her almost numb state. She ignored it, but the person knocking was persistent. She kept ignoring them but when she recognised young Andrew´s voice, she rose from her chair and opened the door.

´Mrs Hughes, I am sorry but…I am so sorry…but…I feel…,´ the young man stammered, looking shocked and dishevelled with red rimmed eyes . She allowed him in and pointed towards her settee.

´Sit down please Andy,´ she said and moved to sit beside him.

He turned to her and she saw the horror in his eyes.

´I feel so awful Mrs Hughes! I have been so horrible to him!´

´No Andy, don't say that. You became a friend to him eventually.´

´But…´

´I know how you feel,´ she told the young man. ´You blame yourself. You think you should have done more, should have paid more attention to him, anything that could have prevented him feeling so desperate and alone. I know, because I feel the same. And I´m sure Miss Baxter does, too. And Anna.´

He sniffed and she gave him a clean handkerchief from the supply she kept in her desk drawer, for homesick housemaids and yes, footmen.

´Do you think so, Mrs Hughes?'

He looked at her and noticed her red nose and puffy eyes.

'Yes, I do Andy, she said gently.

They shared a weak smile and shed some more tears.

Another soft knock on the door announced the arrival of Miss Baxter. She smiled when she noticed Andy and sat down with him. 'I thought I'd find you here,' she said.

'I think I know how you feel, we're all so very sorry and we blame ourselves.'

'Yes,' Andy said. 'Though I feel a little bit better now, knowing that I'm not the only one.'

'You certainly aren't,' Miss Baxter assured him. 'There is a little something we can do though, and that is keep him company the next days. He's asleep now and Anna is with him, she will call me when she goes home and then…'

'Perhaps it's better if I take over during the night, Miss Baxter,' Andy interrupted. 'You are needed in the morning to help the ladies, I am not really needed until lunch so I can take a few hours extra in the morning. I'm sure Mr Molesley won't mind.'

'That's a good idea, if you're up to it. I'll leave the door unlocked and you may call me anytime you need help. That is…if that's all right with you, Mrs Hughes?'

'Of course it is. Mr Carson doesn't agree, I'm sure, but then he doesn't need to know,' the housekeeper answered. 'Very well, Andy, then I suggest you take a nap now, before your night shift starts.'

'Thank you Mrs Hughes, I'll go right up then.' He left the room, leaving the two women.

Mrs Hughes went to the kitchen and fetched them both a cup of tea.

'Poor boy,' Miss Baxter said, while sipping her drink.

'He'll be fine, I'm sure. But that other poor boy, wat about him?'

'I suppose all we can do is pray that he will find his place in the world.'

Mrs Hughes nodded.

'Who knows, something good may come out of this.'

The clock chimed and Miss Baxter jumped; 'Heavens, it's almost time to dress for dinner…I must hurry, I'll have to tend to both her Ladyship and Lady Mary, what with Anna looking after Thomas . Thank you Mrs Hughes.'

'And you, Miss Baxter,' she smiled.

o-o-o-o

His Lordship, also shocked by the events, had given his butler permission to retire early. So it was just past eight when he entered his wife's sitting room and told them they could return to their cottage.

'But before we leave, I think we deserve a sip of that excellent whisky you store in here, my love,' he said, much to her shock.

'Charles! Who told you that?'

He smiled at that. 'Nobody did. But I married a Scotswoman and so I would expect nothing else. Also, for some reason I feel we should drink to poor Thomas's health.'

That shocked her even more and she stared at him in bewilderment.

'But Charles, you never cared for the lad. In fact, I have to say you were very rude to him at times.'

He frowned. 'I know Elsie, and now, when it was almost too late, I regret that. His Lordship knows what happened, I could hardly keep that from him, but I told everyone else he has the flu. Dr Clarkson agreed and will tell no one either.'

She couldn't help it, she suddenly felt an overwhelming wave of affection for him. She smiled, walked over to him and wrapped her arms around his large frame. 'Thank you Charles. That was very considerate of you,' she whispered and he dropped a kiss on her hair.

'That's what being married to you does to me,' he said softly. 'It turns me into a human being. I suddenly find myself, not that often mind you, caring about other people than…'

'The holy Family,' they finished together.

'You are the sweetest man,' she said happily.

He kissed her and murmured: 'Let's skip the whisky and go straight home and to bed, my love. I want to celebrate life with you.'

o-o-o-o

A/N _one more chapter, I think…. Please leave a review if you can find the time. They keep me going, x george_


	3. Chapter 3

Scotch and sympathy

Chapter 3

A/ _N A Thank You to all you lovely people that read and/or reviewed this story, and a_ _ **big hug**_ _goes out to Manygreentrees. You know why love._

 _Here we go, still another chapter to go I think._

o-o-o-o

The alarm clock raised its nasty scream at five, much earlier than Mr Carson was accustomed to these days, but his wife crawled herself free from under his protective arm and got up.

'Elsie, what are you doing? It's five o' clock!' he groaned.

'I know, and I'm going to the House to relieve Andrew from his watch over Thomas, so the lad can have a few hours of sleep,' she answered. 'No need for you to get up this early.'

His bewildered look made her smile and she bent over to kiss him. 'Everything will be back to normal in a week or so,' she whispered in his ear. 'I'll reset the alarm, so you will have another hour of sleep and be ready to manage the house. I will be with Thomas, but Anna knows about the situation and she'll manage the maids. Don't worry, love.'

He pulled her to him in a warm embrace. 'You are so incredibly sweet,' he sighed.

She smiled and kissed him fondly, but then broke the embrace.

'I'll have to get washed and dressed now, but I'll see you at lunch. Alright?'

'Of course love. Everything you do is alright,' he mumbled before going back to sleep.

She bit back a smile, thinking of all the things she never told him for the sake of Thomas, or Anna, or even Mrs Crawley.

But that were things she did _**not**_ do.

o-o-o-o

In Thomas's room in the servants' quarters, she met an endearing sight. Thomas was asleep, looking very pale but peaceful, and in the easy chair next to his bed was Andy, holding his hand and reading a novel. Before going upstairs she had prepared a tray with some toast and tea, nothing heavy, just to have the lad a bite and something warm to drink before he went to bed.

'Andy?' she whispered in the doorway, careful not to wake the patient.

Andy got up and let her in, grateful accepting the toast and tea.

'He's been sleeping all night,' he reported. 'Doctor Clarkson said that was to be expected but as soon as he wakes, we have to let him take in water and stock.'

She smiled at the young man. 'You have done a good job looking after him, Andy,' she said warmly. 'Now you deserve some sleep. I have informed Mr Carson and he agrees you won't be needed until after noon.'

'Thank you Mrs Hughes,' he said, while nibbling his toast.

She began to tidy up the room; Thomas's wet clothes were still there, soaking in a tub of water so the blood stains wouldn't scare the laundry maids, and she rinsed them and made them ready for laundry.

'Mrs Hughes? '

'Yes, Andy.'

'I just wondered, if Thomas gets well and all, you know…is he going to be alright?'

She sighed. That was a difficult question.

'I don't know Andy, I don't think anybody knows. But I do believe he will need friends most of all, and that is something we can do for him. You and I and Miss Baxter, and Anna are his friends and Mrs Patmore and Daisy too. We have to be there for him, that's all we can do.'

The young man got up from his chair.

'I will Mrs Hughes, I sure will,' he said, and he grabbed her hands a squeezed them.

'I'll go and have some sleep now. Thank you for the tea and toast,' he managed, suppressing a yawn.

'Sleep well Andy,' she smiled.

o-o-o-o

First she examined he patient. He was sleeping peacefully, that was alright. Her hand slid under the covers and checked the bedsheets. Dry. He hadn't wet himself, but that was to be expected due to the amount of fluid he had lost. Still, if he didn't wake up anytime soon and got some water into him, things could go wrong. So she gently shook his shoulder.

'Thomas.'

She took his hand, squeezed it, softly shook his shoulder again and spoke loudly in his ear.

'Thomas? Wake up love.'

He twitched, that was all she could say, but it was better than nothing.

'Thomas!' she said again and at the same time squeezed the muscle in his shoulder, remembering the lessons during the war, when the house had turned into a soldier's hospital. 'If that squeeze doesn't make them response, you'll have to call the medics at once!' They'd said.

Now she tried that nasty squeeze on Thomas, having no idea at all how it would turn out and she waited with baited breath.

He squeezed his eyes. He groaned. 'Thomas!' she hissed in his ear. He groaned again. 'Thomas, wake up love, wake up please?'

He coughed. 'Thomas, are you awake...'

o-o-o-o

 _He is in a beautiful, peaceful land. He tries to remember what had happened and found he has no idea. He has no idea where he is, and why…it's another world, a nice world._

' _It's so peaceful here…I just float and float and I see beautiful colours, and I smell cinnamon. My mum is baking apple tart and she smiles at me, she pats my hand…but she is not, she can't be, she is dead. Everyone I know is dead. But Andy is here, too. Andy? I know Andy, how can he be here? He should not be here, I know that. He tells me to wake up but I am so tired. There is someone else…a little boy. He tells me he is my friend. I smell cinnamon and vanilla. I hear a gentle voice that comforts me. It's my mum, but it can't be my mum because she is dead. She wants me to wake up….I don't understand. I am in a meadow, with…birds, and butterflies…it's nice….Andy is there, too, and my mum. They're nice to me, they smile. I see the little boy. And then it gets darker and I hear a voice telling me to go back. Again I don't understand._

 _Go back, where to? I ask the voice. Go back, you have to go back, is all I hear._

 _Then I hear the gentle voice again, and I smell vanilla. My mum? I am confused._

' _Thomas,' she says. 'Wake up Thomas.''_

 _He realises he is away from the meadow and the butterflies now, he is in yet another world. This shocks him. Another world, he is in another world. No more meadows._

' _Thomas? 'his mum whispers again, but she is not his mum. He knows that now. He blinks. He opens his eyes and sees the wall of his small room. Someone holds his hand, a woman._

' _You are not my mum', he tells her._

o-o-o-o

Mrs Hughes smiled. 'No Thomas, I am not your mother,' she said gently. 'Were you dreaming of her?'

'Cinnamon,' he whispered.

She didn't understand but she was glad he was a kind of awake.

'She was with me and it was nice. Yes. she was baking apple tart. Cinnamon and vanilla.'

'I am glad your mum was with you,' she said.

'Yes, it was nice. She loved me. Andy was there, too.'

He writhed between his sheets and she helped him upright and presented him a drink of water. She was glad to see him drinking thirstily.

'It is very important to know that your mum loved, you,' she whispered. 'And Andy is your friend. Remember that, Thomas.'

He finished the glass of water she gave him and he smiled at her.

'I do,' he said. 'Thank you Mrs Hughes. I know it was you, too. And the little boy.'

He dozed off into sleep then and she didn't understand what he meant, but she didn't care.

He had been awake, drank a glass of water and called her by her name. Whatever else he was blabbering about she didn't care, he was awake and the doctor had said he could be fine once he woke up.

She held his hand and nestled in the easy chair.

o-o-o-o

TBC

A/N ….. _please leave a review if you can find the time… x george_


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

A/ _N A big_ _ **Thank You**_ _to all you lovely readers and reviewers! This chapter needs a strong fluff warning, I think. Thank you Manygreentrees,_

o-o-o-o

Mrs Hughes had spent a few hours in the chair next to Thomas's bed, holding his hand and reading the novel Andy had left behind. One of the first Sherlock Holmes stories, she had read it before but had forgotten the plot. Every hour she'd woke her charge, and made him drink a large glass of water. He was going to be alright, she thought, although so far he hadn't been lucid, he just took the proffered drink, emptied the glass and went back to sleep.

At seven Mrs Patmore had entered the room, bringing her toast and coffee, and she had asked what she could prepare for the patient.

'Mmm, I think broth would be best. A strong one, he needs nutrition.'

As a result, one hour later her husband showed up, carrying a flask and a bowl and spoon with him.

'Good morning love,' he greeted his wife, and bent down to kiss her. 'Mrs Patmore told me to bring you this; it's consommé. That should do your patient good. He looks a little better, I have to say.'

'He does, a little bit,' she smiled at him. 'Thank you Charles and thank Mrs Patmore, I believe it's just what he needs.'

'Miss Baxter said he will take over from you around noon.'

'That's fine. Now, I'll have to wake Thomas again and make him take in some fluid,' she said.

He nodded and left the room, but he left the door ajar and listened.

'Thomas, wake up lad. Time to drink something,' she said gently while stroking his shoulder.

'Mrs Hughes,' the young man said. His eyes were bright and alert.

'That's right Thomas. How do you feel?' She hadn't asked him that before, but this time it looked like he had definitely returned to the real world.

'I don't know….' He mused. 'I am in bed and you are beside me. I feel…oh, my god.' He lifted his hand to cover his eyes and noticed the bandages. 'What….what….oh,no,' he stammered and turned his face to the wall.

'I am not dead…,' he whispered.

Mrs Hughes didn't know what to make of that, so she said nothing.

'But I was in this beautiful place, sunshine, and my mum was there and she was baking apple tart…and my mum is dead. So…'

He frowned and she squeezed his hand.

'…so it could not be right that Andy was there. And….good heavens, Master George and Miss Baxter and you…you were there too. You´re not dead.´

She smiled. 'No Thomas, I am not dead and neither are Miss Baxter and Andy and little Master George. But I believe you met us all there in that beautiful place because we are your friends. Am I right?'

He sighed and a tear ran down his cheek.

'I don't know, Mrs Hughes, I don't have friends. I have made everyone dislike me.'

She wiped his cheek and cupped it.

'I must say you did a very good job at that, Thomas. We almost bought that. But wat about young George? He loves you, unconditionally and with his whole heart.'

'He's just a little boy.'

'That's right, he is a child, and children don't judge by reason or logic. He can see beyond that and he sees a friend, Thomas.'

The young man sighed. ´I like him because he doesn´t judge me.´ he said.

Mrs Hughes smiled. ´No, he doesn't judge. But young children have a way to know who is good to them and who isn´t. And Miss Sybbie and Miss Marigold are equally fond of you, as you know.´

´Because they´re children,´ he repeated.

´Yes, they are. Do you remember Nanny Post, and how the children disliked her? That woman had the warmth of an icebox and they knew it.'

Thomas didn't answer, he seemed to think that over.

Mrs Hughes changed the subject. 'I think you should try to sit up now, and have some broth,' she said. 'I'll pour it in a cup for you, that's easier.' She arranged the pillows, helped him to sit more upright and handed him the broth.

He took little sips and she could see he enjoyed the warm, hearty drink.

'What I mean to say Thomas, is that the children are right. You have friends and you are able to make friends.'

He sighed again.

'What happened that day, Thomas? What made you decide to end your life?' she asked gently when he finished the broth. She took the cup from him and held his hands in hers.

Another deep sigh and then he answered.

'A bit of everything, I suppose…. Being forced to find a new job…not being able to find one...knowing Mr Carson doesn't want me to spend time with Andy when it was all perfectly innocent…knowing I'll probably never find someone to love…being the way I am….Miss Baxter and you fussing over me while I knew there was nothing you could possibly do…being jealous of Mr Bates, because he found love. And of Mr Carson, because he has you… And most of all, I felt so terribly alone. I felt so lonely Mrs Hughes. So terribly lonely and unhappy…. and I thought the best way to deal with that was to disappear from the world, because all it would bring me was more unhappiness. So, that's why….'

Thomas closed his eyes and the room remained silent for many seconds.

Mrs Hughes pulled her handkerchief from her sleeve and dabbed her eyes. That poor boy, she understood why he had kept her and Miss Baxter at arm's length. He didn't trust them, didn't feel they could help him.

She reached over and pulled the young man in her arms.

'A, ahem,' sounded from the door and Miss Baxter entered, carrying a tray with more soup, tea and toast.

'I'll take over Mrs Hughes,' she said kindly. The housekeeper smiled, squeezed Thomas's hands once more and stood up. 'Remember what we talked about,' she told Thomas, then gave Miss Baxter a smile and left.

o-o-o-o

At lunchtime she didn't eat much, and after lunch she slipped into Mr Carson's pantry, locked the door and climbed on his lap and into his arms.

'Please Charles, hold me,' she whispered.

He did, he pulled her close to him and he stroked her hair and kissed her temple. 'What's wrong, Elsie?' he asked.

She buried her face in his neck.

'That poor boy, that poor lad,' she said and he felt the tears against his skin.

He wrapped his arms around her more tightly.

'We have been given the afternoon off, and tomorrow morning as well. The family are staying over at the McKellar House and lady Edith is in London. Let's go home, my love.'

o-o-o-o

In their cottage, he went to the kitchen and lighted the fire there. He knew she liked the kitchen with its large wooden table, the stove, the door to their garden, the pots and pans arranged on the shelves much more than their sitting room. He never understood until he visited her home in Scotland, a farm that hadn't had a sitting room at all- just a large kitchen with a fire in the stove, a kitchen table and the feeling of comfort and closeness. She felt at home in their kitchen and when she was upset, he knew he had to bring her there. He put the kettle on and made them both a cup of tea. She smiled at him, and he took her hand and kissed her fingers. 'Thomas will be alright my love, I know you and Miss Baxter will see to that. You two are the weak spot in his harness.'

'I hope so,' she sighed.

'I am sure,' he whispered in her ear and moved behind her. Slowly and carefully, he started to remove the pins from her hair.

Letting her hair down, freeing it from the tight bun had always been the best moment of her day. Her husband knew that and he made use of it. The pins were dropped onto a small, blue china dish that she had owned for decades. He untied the braids and let the long auburn locks fall free over her shoulders. Then he began to massage her scalp.

'Charles! You know I can't resist that,' she growled.

He smiled, shoved her hair aside and began kissing her neck.

'To bed,' she whispered.

He pulled his wife into his arms and dragged her upstairs to their bedroom.

Hours later she was cuddled up in his arms, her head on his shoulder, warm and safe.

o-o-o-o

A/N please leave a review if you can find the time…. x george


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